On That Day I Was Whole
by markofthemoros
Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with three dates on their wrist: the time of achieving one's life's goal; the time of meeting their soulmate; and the time of their death. For Prompto, life had never promised much in that regard. Still, wasn't it better to enjoy the ride than just wallow along, waiting for the destination? Prompto-centric slow burn. Beta read by Devilbladed


October 9

"Ready!"

Cracking a grin, Prompto slapped the glove's leather pouch for the reassuring 'poff'. His fingers closed around the ball automatically, the weight of the gruff surface settling into his palm as it has for countless times. "Alright! Here comes!"

He let it fly. On the other side of the green, a young man, dressed in knee-length cargo shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt with its sleeves cut so that the cloth resembled an open-sided bag rather than a shirt, brought his glove up to level with his face and hobbled a few steps back. The ball sank in the pouch with a satisfying glomp, and he wasted no time before returning it to his friend.

Prompto gulped lowly as his mind arrived at the estimate. The throw was going to fall just a little short. Making up his mind in half a second, he sprung forward. As the ball descended, Prompto reached out the glove, and at the last possible moment, he leapt forward, hoping for the best.

The ball smacked against his palm, and his hand clenched on instinct. The other flew in front of him, to cushion the fall as his chest collided with the ground. Skidding a little, Prompto hissed out sharply, but a satisfied grin danced on his lips. In the corner of his eye, he could make out Kierce jogging toward him, although he did slow down to walking as soon as Prompto clambered up to his knees.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, that was a stylish catch!"

"Thanks. Courtesy of yours, with a pitch like that, really. I suppose I can't take all the glory."

"Well, figured you could use a hand." Kierce pulled a hand through his birdnest-like fluff of grain-colored locks he hadn't bothered to tie. Giving it a quick shake, he snatched the needlessly wide toss as Prompto got on his feet. "Thank you!" he smirked, then patted his companion on the shoulder with his glove.

"You ready?" Kierce tossed the ball into the pouch over and over.

Prompto smacked his. "Bring it!"

Kierce threw the ball in a slow, casual arch. "So you gonna go to Wesserman's party on Friday?"

The other shrugged. "I guess." He caught the ball with nothing but a small extension of his arm. "Are you?"

"Yeah, probably. Axel said there's gonna be a hot tub." Kierce reached up to catch the next pitch. "You think there's gonna be girls there, too?"

Prompto snorted as the ball 'tuffed' into the pit of his glove. "I wish. Gonna be a terrible tub party if not. I don't think I need to see that."

"Yeah," Kierce snorted, then whined out: "Maaaan! That guy probably has enough girls to fill the house with. _Don't_ piss him off or he'll throw _us_ out before any of them!" he pointed a finger at his friend in warning.

"Well, if it were _my_ tub party with girls, you'd be out anyway."

Kierce chortled. "Yeah, love you too, man."

It must have been simply a slip-up that Kierce's next pitch ended up just a tad too wide for Prompto to catch, despite his brave dive to the dirt.

They threw the ball for the best part of two hours. Later, in the dressing rooms, Kierce stomped his sneaker down on the dressing bench to tie it. As he fumbled with his task, Prompto sauntered out of the shower, the towel around his middle. He went to his locker a couple down from his friend's and rolled the numbers. As he opened it, his gaze automatically went to the small pile of accessories. He always left them in a neat pile of top of his clothes. They were the last to come off and the first to be put back on. A black-and-grey-diamonds ring; a woven wristband with an embroidered phoenix design; a black studded leather bracelet; and a solid black smart bracelet.

It was practiced ease. He had developed a small ritual of always slipping on the wristband first, then the ring. Those two didn't require effort. The studded leather sat higher up his arm, so that came next. Plus that band was a tad on the loose side for his slim wrist, so the smart bracelet helped to keep that in place. Then he went for his duffel bag and pulled out a new pair of boxers. Trying to keep his towel knot from coming undone, Prompto bent down to slip his feet through the holes and pulled them on. Just in time, too, as he felt the towel sliding until it fell off altogether.

Kierce had finished with his shoelaces and sat slumped on the bench, back toward Prompto. He was on his phone; Prompto peeked over his shoulder, and he should have known who it was.

"Your dad again?"

The taps on the screen turned more into punches. "Yeah. Man, the damn goat just can't get off my case!" Bitterness had seeped into Kierce's tone.

"He means well, Kie."

"Yeah well he has a weird way of showing that," Kierce huffed and locked his screen. "I don't _want_ to go to Starston! How damn difficult is that to get?"

"Well, I dunno, man. That _is_ only one of the best schools in the country?" Prompto tried.

"If you wanna be a white-collar!" Kierce turned around, gesturing toward his neck with both hands as if tying a button. "I don't give a crap about that, you know," Kierce dropped his tone. "If they had a music major, sure. But, not sure if the old man would approve of it in Starston, either."

He swung his other leg over the bench so that he was straddling it. "Practically everyone in my family went to Starston, so Dad has some weird fixation on it. Says that, and I quote, me dabbling in some garage band isn't gonna pay for his retirement in ten years." He scoffed. "Like, thanks for having faith in me."

Prompto quirked his eyebrow, and Kierce hurried to explain as he realized how in the air he had left that. "I mean like, not like I wasn't gonna go to school and have a job and all," he started to make amends. "I get that. Dad just...well, we just want different things, and he isn't getting it that, hello, things don't work out the way they did in Year Potato when he went to school?! We don't just graduate and take the first job offered to us and stick to it until we're gray! Today, some Picstagram stars make _tenfold_ the money I would even if I did go to Starston and end up wasting away as an analyst or whatever!"

"Yeah, but…" Prompto trailed off. 'You're not a Picstagram star, Kie.'

Kierce's eyebrow rose. "But?" he blurted, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Prompto swallowed. Great. "But...wouldn't you think having a star school like that in your CV would open you doors to practically anywhere?"

Kierce held his finger up like he was a teacher making a point the whole class should memorize for it was surely going to be on the next test. "Aaah, but you see, I have that all planned out!" He opened his eyes again, looking at Prompto like a schemer. He tapped something on his phone, focused expression furrowing his brows before he apparently found what he was looking for, for he let out a small 'ha'. Cracking a self-satisfied grin, Kierce showed him the screen.

Prompto's eyes ran on the lines. "...Rowles Morter College of Liberal Arts and Applied Sciences?"

Kierce looked proud. "Yeap!"

"What even is that place?"

"It's a small, private college. Only 300 slots, but I have a pretty good feeling."

"Why, what's there?"

His friend's smile grew half an inch wider. "Well as it appears, a joined major in arts and a choice of engineering, economics, or physical sciences."

"And they would have music?!"

"Yeap! I checked, and I meet the criteria, too."

Prompto's expression lit up a little. "Where is that?"

"Ogalala."

"Dude! That's like, an hour drive!" Something in the way Kierce's lips turned downward nervously prompted the question, though. "...But?"

"But...it's costly. No kidding man, this would be about double the Starston. My parents don't know yet."

"Dude…"

"I've been saving up, though. I have almost 10 000 gil in for the down payment."

Prompto's jaw dropped. "Just from working at Dillard's?!"

Kierce broke a grin and tossed his head casually. "What can I say, I earn pretty sweet tips."

The younger just snorted. "Clearly." Then, "So...when are you gonna tell them?"

"I dunno. Soon? I know Dad doesn't think that I could make a living in music-"

"Yeah, well-"

"And while I'm calling bullshit," Kierce raised his finger and shot Prompto a look that shut him up. "While I'm calling bullshit, I dunno, at least like this we'd both get what we want. I'd get to professionally train singing, and he'd sleep easier knowing that his son is gonna be an engineer, just in case that dream turns to dust."

"You've really planned this through."

Kierce chuckled. "Yeah well. You know how it gets. That the youth always think we know the best and all," he shook his head a last time, but that held a certain finality. He had said what he had about it, and when Prompto only offered a vague 'yeah' and a chortle, Kierce remembered his manners.

"Sooo, how 'bout you? Where do you wanna go after high school?"

Prompto's face fell. He avoided his gaze and scratched the back of his head, eyes downcast. "Uuh...haven't...really...thought about it."

Kierce gave an understanding jerk of his head. "Well, you still have another year. Just saying, man, Mrs. Loveland won't leave you alone next year if you haven't got anything. She is _very_ thorough." Kierce raised his eyebrows wide and nodded meaningfully, in imitation of their guidance counselor's habit.

"Yeah, I'll...keep that in mind," Prompto gave a timid laugh.

Grin vanished from Kierce's features. "What's wrong?"

"Uhm, nothing." That was just a little too perky; a little too see-through. "I just haven't really come to think of it, is all."

"Hmm," the older scoffed. The inquisitorial eyebrow raise did nothing to reassure Prompto. Kie had always been able to read him like a book. It was almost brutal how his hunch was never wrong, either. Not that Prompto hadn't thought about it. It just seemed all so messed up! The more he tried to put a finger on it, the less sense anything made. But he couldn't tell that to Kierce! Hell, he wouldn't know where to start explaining it to himself-!

Then:

"Well you know," Kierce shook his head and leaned back to support his hands behind his back. "It's still a whole other year, you know. Even if it feels like a jungle, and yeah well I guess it kinda is…"

"Kie…"

"What I'm saying is, it'll work out. It all might make zero sense now, but it's gonna start to. All I'm saying is, if you've got something you want to strive for, like really have at it, then have at it." He offered Prompto a warm smile. "And if anyone is gonna stand in your way and tell you otherwise, you let me know and I'll kick their asses, ok?"

Prompto couldn't help laughing at that. Genuine, bubbling up from deep down his chest. "Gee, thanks."

"Anytime," Kierce just shook his head dismissively. It was obvious Prompto didn't want to talk about it and he wasn't going to pry.

Given, he had his career path paved out for him pretty clearly from the start. He had always known that he wanted to do music, period. It had been more of the question of how to make it work. With Rowles Morter, he could perhaps win his parents over and get them to see his side of this, too. He and their group had talent! He needed to practice and hone that skill, such as any other profession if he meant to take it seriously.

They had played a few gigs are the local youth center and then last summer at the town fair. Sure, that wasn't much, yet. But they were rather well known in their community and Kierce had faith that their potential far exceeded their appreciation. But no band was a star at birth, and he understood to give it time but also push it when a chance presented it. He kept a keen eye on potential producers' calls for talents, and had exchanged a few emails. No-one had signed up as their agent yet, but Kierce had received mild interest in return. One contact had hinted at keeping an eye out for their coming call for demos and that had carried an expecting tone.

But perhaps Prompto wasn't as ready. His friend has always come off as a little aloof when it came to planning for the future, and he certainly wasn't the only one. Several of his senior classmates didn't have a clue what they'd want to study or which college they should place as their priority. Prompto had a whole new year to figure it out, and they wouldn't really start drumming that to the juniors before March or April anyway. Kierce shuddered slightly at the recollection of the endless slideshows; diagrams upon diagrams of acceptance percentages, extra credits, and recommendation letter formats - he feared that Mrs. Loveland's slides would haunt him in his dreams yet, lest he worked his head to a new gear.

Prompto tousled his hair with the towel; leaning forward, he wiped the back of his neck with extra care before pulling the towel away as he threw his hair back in a small arc. He swept a hand through the still moist tresses a few times, and combed them to the right and toward the back of his head. Except in the front, there he plucked a few strands to stand up a little, like melting ice cream cones, but they'd settle better once they dried up more.

"That looks hideous, you know that?"

Prompto twirled a drooping lock with all the more care. "Well if they do, then how come it is me who's got Seria's phone number and not you?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kierce rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up from the bench. "You ready?"

"Almost," the other muttered, his back toward him as he stuffed his towel and the rest of his change of clothes into his duffel bag. His hair was still wet, but it was so warm outside, a little coolness felt actually nice. "Alright. Let's go."

The sun was curling further toward the horizon, but the red hues hadn't spread over the cityscape yet. They made a quick pit-stop in a convenience store, Prompto wanted to get a soda, before heading away from the downtown area toward the residential districts. The summer sun wafted off the asphalt beneath their feet, making the air ripple and blur around them as hot currents whisked pleasantly against their bare shins.

"So Montierro said he and a few other guys are gonna go wall-climbing - I believe, next Sunday?" Prompto suggested.

"Yeah, I know. Can't make it, though. Work."

Prompto quirked an eyebrow. "Dude, you're always working."

"Yeah, well I recall stating that I need the money?" Kierce spread his arms in an I-don't-follow way.

"Yeah, but - don't you ever fear that...you'll...miss out?" Prompto glanced to the side, choosing his words carefully. It was the other's turn to give a quizzical look.

"Well, yeah, sure. But, I think it that way that...I've gotta focus on more important things right now. That college ain't gonna pay for itself, and...pretty sure I can't count on my folks on that, either. So it has to come out from something else." There was longing in Kierce's voice and his gaze was on the pavement, but everything spoke for the young man having made his choice.

"Hmm." Prompto gave an offhand jerk of his head. Almost automatically, his gaze visited his friend's wrist, where pale honey-colored numbers stood out from his otherwise tanned arm. And Prompto didn't need to stare, a mere glance was enough to tell that Kierce's last date was far ahead in the future.

His chuckle died. A soft frown curved his brows ever so slightly.

Good for Kierce. It sounded like he had found his calling, and if Prompto knew his friend at all -which he liked to think he did- he could count on that Kierce would always find a way to pull it off. He always had. Whatever Kierce set his mind on, he would stop at nothing to see it through. Prompto wouldn't put it past him that he'd run away to go to that art college now, regardless of what his parents thought about it. With Kierce's gusto, Prompto was sure Kierce considered that student slot practically his already, despite only the application deadlines closing in a month.

But it was his strength. Kierce wasn't bothered with the fine print. Not that he was aloof; he just didn't let the odds determine his effort. He threw himself in full into whatever task he undertook, and gave it his all. Only the few times when the wall really had risen up to meet him had Kierce given up. Despite his relentlessness, he could tell when something just wasn't going to happen. But until the fat lady sang, well, Kierce certainly would.

"Prom?" Kierce's tone rose at the end.

"Uh, huh?"

"Are you going?" he repeated, a little more carefully this time, as if he wasn't sure whether Prompto had trouble hearing or comprehending.

"Oh! Yeah! Yeah, probably."

The older nodded, a sly smile spreading over his lips. "Gotta tell Montierro to get a camera. If memory serves, you're not too fond of high places, are you?"

Prompto looked taken-aback. "It's, it's not _that_ bad!"

The older gave a small laugh. "Sure. But just saying, you have to look upwards to cross the Kearney River bridge, Prom."

"...Well, maybe I think it's time I do something about it."

Kierce flopped his hand on Prompto's shoulder. "Well, best to luck to you. I'll be sure to tell Montierro to bring an umbrella in case you'll loose your stomach."

"Hey! ...Besides that wasn't even me! Those wings tasted _wee-eird_!"

"And so it was the chicken all along…" Kierce's lips spread into a shit-eating grin; a look that called bullshit.

"Of course! Dude, I might be...okay, I might not like the height, yeah. But dude, I don't puke from being on top!"

"I should hope not."

Prompto's face dropped as he understood what he had said; then he elbowed the other to his side. "Shut up…"

Kierce, bending over a little as he dodged most of the blow, muttered under his breath: "And he's not denying it." Prompto shot him a glare.

Snorting, the older took pity on him. Their current battle of banter was decided on Prompto's silence. "Aaaand that's one point to me," Kierce declared as he pretended to draw a line onto an imaginary score board. "It's my 15 to your 31 now, by the way. Not that I would count or anything."

Prompto's frown had smoothened out. "Perhaps if you didn't keep aiming below the belt every time…" he shrugged airily.

"Oh, and your 'swan song' jokes are any better?"

"You tell me. Which one is at, was it 31? I didn't quite catch that?" Prompto craned his head.

"Yeah, thirty-" Kierce started automatically before he caught up to the other's game, and sighed. "Thirty-two. Hmph. Well played."

The rest of the walk remained mostly civil. They said their quick see-you-tomorrows where Kierce took a different route to go home. Prompto kept glancing after the retreating figure as long as he could before a house blocked his line of sight, and sighing, he turned his eyes back to front.

As he got home, his eyebrows rose a little at the neatly organized pair of shoes far smaller than his in size in the lobby. It was rare that his mother was back home so early.

His shoulders dropped a little with a soft sigh he couldn't hold back. Then, mustering a more energetic tone, Prompto called out: "Hi, Mom!" He scrunched the tabs of his heels to get his shoes off one by one, then stepped farther inside.

His mother was in the living room, standing on a kitchen ladder and reaching for the curtain rods with a feather duster. She stepped back down as he entered and turned around, and Prompto's stomach flipped itself around a little at the usual careful display of affection his mother moulded over her face. Too bad it never quite managed to conceal the whisker of solemnity always present in her fondness; neither did it so this time, and a shiver ran down Prompto's back at the sad smile behind her:

"Hi, sweetie. How was school?"

Prompto shrugged. "Alright."

"That's good." She paused for a moment, and it was in those moments when Prompto ached to ask her. Question what he could do to make it better. What would have to happen for her to get over the crevice that made him feel like walking on eggshells. He never did, though. And his chance was taken from him when his mother added, with that same artificial note to her joy that burred:

"Your father should be home any minute. Then we'll have dinner." She offered him a soft smile - soft from the eyes, genuine at the lips, before turning away and climbing back up. As she reached for the curtains again, Prompto gave another offhand shrug and muttered an 'okay'.

He was already leaving when he suddenly halted. "Uhm, Mom?"

"Yes, dear?" Her attention snapped back him almost as if she had been expecting the question. Hungrily waited and anticipated it, and suddenly, Prompto wasn't sure what he had wanted to say anymore.

"Uhm. Nothing. Uh, nevermind."

His mother's smile faltered before she wrestled it back under control. "Alright, dear. Just...if you ever…" she trailed away; the soft gulp carried all the way to the other side of the living room. She sniffed briefly, then: "We'll eat in about an hour."

"Okay. ...Thanks, Mom." Prompto was already out of the doorway, but not far enough not to make out the slightly moist edge in his mother's:

"Of course, sweetie."


End file.
